“When they took him,” Okwaho said, “all I could think about was vengeance. I wanted to kill them. I was full of anger. But now . . .”

“Now?”

“Now, with what you’ve told me, my mind has finally become clear. It’s no longer twisted with anger.”

He wanted to say more, but again could not bring words forth. All of his long days and nights of worrying about Tawis would now be in the past. His friend was alive. He was well. And they would see each other again soon. It was almost too much good. He couldn’t keep from smiling.

“Thank you,” he managed to say.

The Peacemaker smiled. “Thank our Creator,” he said. “That is where all good comes from. Kind thoughts, peace . . . and songs.”

Okwaho nodded.

“So, will you share your song with me now?” the Peacemaker asked. He sat back and began tapping his hand on the cedar root next to him, finding the same rhythm Okwaho had been using.

Okwaho took a breath and began to sing. “Aeee, aee, yai.” He sang softly at first, but as he continued to sing, he could feel the song itself wanting to be heard and his voice became louder.

“Aee, aee, yai.”

The fourth time he sang it through, the Peacemaker joined in, his voice strengthening the song.

Okwaho had not told him it was meant to be a song for peace, yet he could feel that the Peacemaker understood that.

Words began to come to him. Words that spoke of how important it was to have peace. Peace was needed for the little children. It was needed for the elders. It was needed for all the people. Each time Okwaho sang new words, the Peacemaker sang them back to him. It was as if the song were embracing them the way a loving mother would hold her children.

He was not sure how long they sang together. But when he stopped, the Peacemaker stopped with him in perfect unison. Okwaho looked up. Elder Brother, the Sun, had risen more than the width of three hands up into the sky. It was mid-morning.

“Niaweh,” the Peacemaker said. “Thank you, little bird.”

He rose to his feet. “Now I must go. Tomorrow will be a busy day for all of us.”

“Tomorrow?” Okwaho said.

“Yes, tomorrow is the day. All of the four nations will gather on the other side of Onondaga Lake. We are meeting Tsakonsase, the Mother of Nations, there. The Great Peace cannot be completed without the Mother of Nations bringing the power of women to us. Then our canoes will cross the lake together. We will walk as one to the place where Atatarho sits.”

“How many will come?”

“Hundreds of canoes.”

Okwaho drew in a breath. He could already see it in his mind. Hundreds of canoes crossing the lake together would be amazing. Even Atatarho might be awed by that!